Tag Archives: Cougars

On My Mound

24 Oct

What IS it about The Baseball?  Or perhaps, more specifically, The Giants?  When once I was a non-believer, interested only in enjoying the architectural beauty of Our Stadium, eating garlic fries and gazing wistfully out across the Bay – invariably missing the sporadic, unpredictable bursts of action down on the field – today, mysteriously, I am one of the converts.  In Bruce we Trust.

“What happened to you?” my family members keep asking, suspicious not only of my newfound enthusiasm, but the mere fact that I would have the slightest interest in any sports whatsoever.  My lifetime Punk Rock Aversion to Sports was once perhaps greater than that of my ilk, aggravated as it was by sour memories of my father, simultaneously watching football on TV while listening to baseball, his transistor radio held inches from his head as he ate dry handfuls of Grape Nuts. I would spend that precious father-daughter bonding time bouncing around the living room, jumping from sofa to floor to tabletop with a furious, desperate “Dad look at me Dad look at me!” energy, but to no avail.  But I’m not bitter:  if it wasn’t for that, I probably wouldn’t have ended up in gymnastics, and later, as the notoriously attention-demanding adult that I am today.

Zen. Fucking. Perfection.

Zen. Fucking. Perfection.

I am not going to bother to try and describe the layers of beautiful Zen perfection that is The Baseball. So many others have already done this time and again, considerably more adeptly than I would no doubt, so I won’t join the fray.  But it IS there – the layers of beautiful Zen perfection that is – and I am awed by it.  Also at my age there is now the added bonus of unabashedly discussing the fuckability/lack thereof of each player with my fellow Giants fan/cougar housemate, and comparing how much nicer baseball bodies are to football bodies (ew!).  And the addict in me deeply appreciates the rabbit-hole quality of knowing that this game, this inning, or perhaps the next one, or surely the one after that, will really be IT, you know?

We just have to keep watching.  Vamos Gigantes!


Women of a Certain Age

21 Aug

Lo and behold, Cougarin’ has gone mainstream!  Apparently the appropriate Cougar demographics have been identified as viewers of History Channel International, because that’s where I saw it, in full glorious color: an advertisement  for CougarLife.com.  My interest was, to say the least, quite piqued: it seems that , much in the same way that the gay community commandeered the former pejorative “queer” for their own empowerment, the older-women-who-love-younger-men crowd are taking public pride in their cradle-robbing ways.  Hmmm.  So many angles from which to examine this phenomenon, I don’t really know where to start.

First off, the personal:  Am I a Woman of a Certain Age?  Most definitely.  Am I anywhere near as hot as the supposed Cougars featured in the TV ad?  Certainly not.  Actually, on first glance it seemed unlikely that said hotties in the commercial were much over 30, but what with the plastic surgery, expensive makeup , and enhanced nutritional supplements the modern age has to offer, it can be quite hard to tell the 20-somethings from the 40-somethings these days.  Yet if you can’t necessarily tell them apart, aesthetically speaking, then what would compel a younger man to proactively pursue us smoldering oldies?

Oh, duh – money.  It’s the same deal as with the Trophy Bride scenario, just in reverse.  Silly me, for a minute there I was considering a feminist, sexual empowerment slant to the story.  Well, I guess to some degree there is one:  in examining the CougarLife website (which aims to pair “women in their prime with younger men, and end the double standard!”), it is immediately clear that in the Cougar community, the balance of power is solidly weighted in women’s favor.  But somehow I doubt that the Freedom to Cougar was at the top of the agenda for the early leaders of the women’s movement.  We still haven’t had a ball-less American in the White House, but goddammit, who needs that when a woman of 50 can bed any hot young man she chooses?

CougarLife.com is essentially a dating service, geared to both Cougars and their “Cubs” (which, by the way, is the same term used for hairy young men pursued by older, presumably even hairier men within the Bear community, so the Cougars might want to consider a more original and less gay pet name for their arm candy).  While I felt compelled to search beyond the site’s homepage, primarily to see if there were any women listed there who didn’t just look like digitally aged versions of unnaturally blonde starlets, a vague sense of paranoia prevented me.  I didn’t want to taint my laptop with trace evidence of recent trawling though the annals of CougarLife.com.  I mean what if I was murdered tomorrow and the police needed to search through my stuff in solving the crime?  Not only would their discovery posthumously embarrass me to no end, it would lead them way off track and the perp might never be found.

However I readily admit to ogling the hot young Cubs on the homepage, if only momentarily.  Somehow I don’t think that the 26 year-old Capricorn from Toronto, with the ” Body Type: Athletic” and multiple photos of biceps featured  in his profile would sustain much long-term interest for me.  Oh, but wait, he does have a Bachelor’s Degree.  Though I think I can safely assume that stimulating conversation probably isn’t what most of these women are looking for  (” To snare a true Cougar a man needs to be youthful, fit, unintimidated and of course sexually driven!”).  Such a desire is predicated on the questionable assumption that hot young guys are tops in the sack.  How did this rumor ever get started?  While in some cases it may prove true, I posit that stamina doesn’t necessarily make up for experience.  Do you want a long, boring plane ride or a go-round on a roller coaster?  I’m just sayin’.

And I don’t know about you, sister, but as I recall, all the male contemporaries I dated in my 20’s turned out to be royal pains in the ass.  If they’re not obsessively tripping out over your past boyfriends or sponging off of you while they take their time finding themselves, then they’re hitting on your friends – sometimes those of both genders – and complaining that The Man is keeping them down.  My Cougar friends, do you really want to go there again?  Take a look at the choice stock of  salt-and-pepper man-pals around you.  Sure, many of them still ride skateboards to work and are just as hot for PlayStation as they are for the ladies, but they’ve got time in their favor, like a fine wine.  And they know a lot of stuff, if you get my drift.